The Valentine's Ball
by TheLostSpirit
Summary: He wanted to find his Valentine in the midst of the crowd, but he knew she wouldn't show. So why was this mysterious girl intriguing him? ONESHOT. KyouyaxHaruhi. OOC possible


**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Ouran High School Host Club  
**

It was an extravagant ball. Nothing could possibly be better than that ball that night, especially when it was held on the day of love—Valentine's Day. Reds and pinks and whites shined in this ballroom, with lords and ladies hanging on each other throughout the whole night; chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, making the golden walls sparkle; hearts floated above the heads of the lovers; roses and rose petals were sprinkled on the floor and on the different tables surrounding the dance floor; the food was divine (of course, chocolate was offered in a fountain with heart-shaped strawberries); it was _perfect_. The crowd flooded the floor with their masks—it was a masquerade ball because of those singles that wished to find their lord or lady—and stared at the top of the stairs. Behind a grand white door stood a blonde-haired man, tuxedo and all.

"Ah, Kyouya! What are we to do! I'm so nervous that I'll make a fool out of myself in this speech!" He placed his forehead on the door and closed his eyes, adding dramatic effects to his speech. Two boys almost his height leaned against his shoulders, both having the same smirk on their face.

"Oh, but milord," one started.

"You are always the fool!" the other ended. The blonde-haired man tensed up—then, of course, started to chase the two around the darkened room. Kyouya fixed his own tuxedo in front of a luxurious mirror and examined himself. He was wearing a white tuxedo—everyone in that room had to wear one—and also had a black mask over the top half of his face (his steel onyx eyes blended with the mask). The red tie looked crooked in his eyes—truth be told, he couldn't really see without his glasses—so he did his best to straighten the tie. When he felt the strong rush of wind run past him, he directed his attention to those in the room.

"Tamaki, you had better keep yourself safe from damaging that tuxedo. We have no replacements tonight, because of the budget for this dance," Tamaki stopped shaking the twins senseless and looked over at Kyouya. Tamaki was wearing the same outfit as Kyouya, only his mask was a dark red with little sparkles here and there surrounding his eyes. When the twins—Tamaki had no idea which was Hikaru and which was Kaoru—stopped moving from being shaken, one could see that their masks were both a dark purple. Kyouya noticed Tamaki right next to him in a flash and saw the fake tears in his eyes; it was typical to see the tears every day.

A little one came around and stood next to the two; his mask was yellow. "Tama-chan, he's right! There's chocolate down there, and one spill would ruin your tuxedo! Be careful!" A tall man nodded and grunted in agreement; he was wearing a dark blue mask. Tamaki still looked up at Kyouya; he was not hurt by the fake tears Tamaki had.

"Kyouya! I didn't mean to go over budget, you know that!" Kyouya didn't budge.

"I told you numerous times that you were going over budget," Tamaki scooted closer to his best friend.

"But it's for love! Everyone deserves the best love today!" Kyouya still didn't budge.

"Love does not cost this much," Tamaki straightened himself out and shook his head.

"Love has no price tag! Money isn't the essence of love; happiness is!" Tamaki turned from his best friend and began to walk towards the door; Kyouya pulled out his journal and began to scribble something down. Tamaki continued. "I bet there are hundreds of smiles out there tonight, waiting to start to dance with their lovers and to meet their lovers! And we will promise them that their night will be one of happiness, one filled with love and smiles!" Tamaki turned back to his group and smiled. "That's what we're here for, anyway," they all smiled—except for one.

"It is a shame that Haru-chan can't be here," The little one frowned. Kyouya stopped writing; he blinked. He couldn't even read his own handwriting, and snapped his book shut. Tamaki frowned with him.

"Yes, Huni-senpai, it is such a tragedy that her father forced her away from the ball! We'll make it up to her!" Kyouya looked in his mirror; he looked like a mess, a fool, something. He couldn't explain it, but he was that. Tamaki turned back to his door—he was determined—and smiled. "But!" He dramatically spun and looked at his crowd—they began to be determined with him. "Tonight is their night! We will not worry about our poor daughter, no! Let us grace them with our smiles and make them smile with us!" He spun back around and opened the door to the ball.

Kyouya wanted nothing to do with the dance.

0o0

"Dad," Haruhi peeked out from her room. "Are you sure?" He nodded.

"Yes, yes! Now come out, come out!" She sighed and pulled herself out from the darkness. Ever since she had told the Host Club about her secret of being a woman instead of a man, she had started to grow her hair again. Ever since she had started associating with the women in the school, she started to wear dresses a little more (she is a girl, after all). So for it being Valentine's Day, and her father setting up a silly blind date, it was almost like he had been planning this since she joined the Host Club—almost like he knew she would grow her hair and wear dresses again. But she didn't care; it was nice.

Ranka was surprised to see his daughter so lovely! She had her hair up in a bun, with curling strands hanging from her bun and side-swiped bangs; sparkling red earrings (they were clipped on) graced her ears; her nails were painted a dark red, matching the dress almost glued to her body. The dress was another thing to talk about: the laced corset was a solid dark red, with lighter circular red sequins dangling from the corset; the bottom half was made of mesh, of the same dark red color, and covered her feet; Ranka couldn't see, but her plain red heels were underneath her dress. She looked in a nearby mirror and frowned. "Dad, this is really too much. It's way too extravagant for a blind date." She looked back at her father and he shook his head.

"Not at all, Haruhi!" He rose from his spot and started to spin around the room. Haruhi watched her father…do just that. "He invited you to a business dance tonight! I want you to go!" Haruhi looked back in the mirror.

"Just how formal is this dance?" Ranka spun behind her and looked with her in the mirror. He smiled.

"Does it matter? Besides, you look beautiful," Haruhi started to play around with her hair—her father had to help her, because she didn't know how to work with so much hair—and shrugged.

"I suppose," she whispered. Ranka pulled a dark red mask from behind his back and she watched as he placed it on her face. "What are you doing?"

"It's a masquerade ball!" She turned her head to her father.

"You mean I'm going to the Host Club's ball?" He shrugged.

"Could very well be that ball," he began to tie the mask on her head. She started to feel her cheeks heat up. "it is where most of his business resides, is it not?" She was quiet. Ranka peeked up in the mirror and saw his daughter flustered; he smiled. "But!" He spun her around and she saw his smile; she couldn't help but smile just a little bit. "I'm sure you'll have a blast there! You'll be the best dancer there!" She nodded.

"If you say so," Ranka heard his clock going off—it was already seven o'clock! Suddenly, she felt Ranka behind her and pushing her toward the door.

"Ah, Haruhi! You have to go! Go, go! The ride is outside!" When she opened the door, a familiar face stood before her. She knew this person from the secretive life the man lived. Haruhi turned to her father and saw him only smiling; she had a bad feeling about all of this. "Now go find your Prince and have a lovely Valentine's Day!" The driver grabbed her arm and she focused all of her attention to him.

"Come, Fujioka-san," she was dragged a little bit out of the house onto the patio and she looked over the ledge. Sure enough, there was the familiar limousine that she had seen on the school grounds. Another helper was there to open the door for her down there. "Your ride awaits." She heard the door close and could only sigh.

Haruhi wanted nothing to do with the dance.

0o0

The festivities commenced. An extravagant speech was made by the king of the club, standing on top of the stairs speaking to his guests. It was not very long—but it felt very long as he started to ramble before he knew it. Kyouya had to step in and commence the ball before their very own king got caught up on the idea of love. So many princes and princesses began to dance around and around the large ballroom, dancing to the classical music that was offered by Tamaki and Kyouya, alike (they took turns playing the piano with the rest of the orchestra—yes, orchestra—while the evening went on).

Everyone had masks on, from the ladies to the men. Most of the men wore plain, one colored masks that either matched the theme of the ball (Valentine's) or matched their tuxedos (black or white), while the ladies wore fantastical masks, with sequins, shapes, feathers, everything imaginable! Of course, their masks matched what they wore, so there were a variety of colors, from the lightest reds to the darkest pinks galore. No mask was the same, no dress was the same—everything was accordingly so.

As for the dances, the hosts were obliged to dance with anyone that wanted to dance with them—which was all the time. Tamaki was chosen a fair amount, followed by the twins. Kyouya stalked the shadows, as he wanted no part to dance (a few girls found him, however, and he was obliged to take part in one or two dances from time to time). He wanted to dance with one girl, one woman, but she was not there—she would not be there because of her father. Kyouya took out his little notebook and scribbled something in, but when he looked at his little note, he still could not read his handwriting. He was getting equally frustrated at his feelings for her and at his behavior—what was wrong with him? Suddenly a voice from the music came to him.

"Kyouya, you are supposed to be dancing with the princesses here!" It was Tamaki. Kyouya quickly snapped his notebook shut and turned to his best friend. Tamaki had the puppy eyes. Kyouya just stared without being troubled by his friend.

"I am taking a break between dances, Tamaki," Kyouya turned back to the crowd and hopelessly scanned it for the one person he wanted—not like he would know who she was, anyway, with a mask on (he could barely figure out who the men were under the masks). Tamaki spun around Kyouya and faced him.

"Oh, Kyouya! You just wish to dance with your daughter!" Kyouya blinked.

"What makes you say that?" Tamaki smiled and winked, appropriately. Kyouya stared at his friend. What _did_ Tamaki know about his feelings for Haruhi? Tamaki turned around and was approached by a smaller looking woman, maybe the height of Haruhi—no, she was not Haruhi. Kyouya sighed; Tamaki turned his head.

"There's always someone that can read your handwriting, right?" Kyouya blinked again. He read what he had just scribbled down? Before he knew it, Tamaki was gone, and Kyouya was alone again. He opened his book again and stared at the words. He still couldn't read it. He shut the book and stared out at the crowd. In the sea of reds and pinks, whites and other various colors of the sort, he somehow wished he could find the one person he was looking for. And from the few stragglers coming through the doors, he somehow prayed that one of them was Haruhi.

She entered the ballroom—well, she was pushed in by Tachibana. She didn't want to be in the Host Club's ball, especially since they would probably be able to pinpoint who she was in a flash. And, of course, _he_ was there, somewhere in the shadows. She sighed. _How do I manage to get myself in these kinds of situations, anyway? _But she had to admit, the Host Club really outdid themselves in this ball. She couldn't count how many roses there were—there were so many! Suddenly, she was met by one of the hosts—Tamaki.

"Dear princess! Welcome to your ball!" He grabbed her hand and kissed the back of her hand. He was trying to charm her—she knew him too well. But she could not call him out on such charms, since it would defeat the purpose of the masquerade ball.

She curtsied. "Thank you, kind prince," she whispered. Tamaki straightened himself out and smiled that goofy smile. He was soon surrounded by many girls and Haruhi stood there in her dress—she felt like the pauper compared to the dresses in the ballroom. They were very expensive looking! _Damn rich bastards, _she thought to herself as Tamaki was whisked away by his guests. Haruhi breathed a sigh of relief as he left; she didn't want to be caught in the ball. _Now, where is he? _But it was hard to ignore some of the stares made by the men in the crowd; they were all staring at her with intentions of asking her to dance. But she only want to dance with one person, and one person only.

She just had to find him.

0o0

The night dragged on; both Kyouya and Haruhi danced with partners they didn't want to dance with. Haruhi's feet were getting sore from dancing in the heels for a long time, and Kyouya was growing tired of the girls surrounding him so they can dance. Halfway through the ball, the music stopped and Tamaki made yet another speech. Haruhi moved to the side of the ballroom so she could rest her feet and watch the hosts gather on the stairs. She didn't listen to any of the speech (it was something about how those that have made connections that night should dance the night away) but kept all of her attention on the piano player.

She didn't know how she was going to get across the ballroom without being asked by someone to dance, but she was determined. So when the ball commenced again, she ducked down in the crowd and walked in the midst of the dancing groups. They spun, they twirled, they swooned, they did everything in the dances! Luckily, she made it across the ball, without any man seeing her to ask her to dance. That is, until she got to the side of the ballroom where she wanted to be. Standing next to her was Tamaki again, watching her maneuver through the crowd.

"Ah, dear princess! Why are you on the ground like that?" Haruhi sighed; _not him again. _She quickly jumped to her feet and curtsied once more.

"I have grown tired of dancing, and everyone continues to ask me to dance," Tamaki smiled again—he was going to ramble on about love, wasn't he?

"Ah, but lovely maiden! It is the season of love that brings everyone together to dance like this!" Yes he was. "They wish to be your prince, to be the one and only that brings you joy when you dance on your feet. They want to be the one that sweeps you off your feet and lets your feet rest!" Tamaki turned his back to her; she made a dash away from him as he continued to ramble on about nonsense. And when Tamaki turned around, a group of girls were there to listen. He smiled to them instead.

Haruhi heard the song end and saw the piano players swap out—Kyouya left and Tamaki sat down. Kyouya was walking towards her, and she hadn't a clue what to do. So she quickly rested against one of the white pillars and straightened out her dress and mask—god knew how terrible she looked after dancing for so long (her hair was probably a mess!). So she held in her breath and waited for the one she had been searching for the entire night.

Kyouya played the last note on the grand piano with the orchestra. He heard the applause from the crowd as well as the panicked apologies from a certain man that was taking his place. "I promise to dance with you all as soon as I am done playing this song for you princesses!" Kyouya turned and saw the women swooning in their place. Tamaki looked at his friend and smiled. "Kyouya! That was lovely! Too bad you cannot play the entire evening away!" Kyouya saw his friend take his place.

"Yes, well, there is a dance I must attend, Tamaki," it was the only way to have his friend shut up about him not dancing, and he didn't want to deal with his friend bothering him anyway. Kyouya turned his back to his friend; the music began to start and the crowd began to dance again. He longed for the shadows again, so he would not be bothered. At the first white pillar, he would rest and not bother to dance with the women in the crowd (they were not who he longed for anyhow). So when he arrived there, he was disappointed to find a woman standing there.

There was something different about her, though. She was…poorly dressed. She did not wear an expensive dress; it was something cheap. The woman curtsied to him and he bowed his head. He was not in the slightest interested in the woman; she looked like she would be a commoner. "Excuse me, sir," she had the smallest voice in the room as well. It was hard to hear such a voice. Kyouya leaned against the close wall in the premises, and he stared at the girl. What was it about her? "but are you willing to dance?" He saw her hand being held out; she was blushing.

Haruhi thought it was crazy. No, she knew _she herself _was crazy for asking him. Somehow, she hoped he would say yes, but he was not the type to agree when he was asked—he did things himself. Something intrigued him to say yes—he didn't know why, either. He took the hand of the woman and stared into her brown eyes. Something about her, he couldn't put his finger on it. But he kept looking toward the dor, hoping for his one to come running in, without a mask. The girl, holding his hand in the shadows, pulled him closer to her body and the piece began.

Soon enough, they were both mesmerized by the movement of the piece. What Tamaki was playing on the piano, Kyouya had no idea he could play such a thing! Haruhi, too, was not in control of her actions, and felt something rush through her. Kyouya was expecting just another dance, another boring thing coming, but his feet were matching her movements, twirling with the falling rose pedals and feeling her body become attached. Why was this dance different? Haruhi felt his body move closer to hers, her hair twirling with the rose pedals and her feet gliding along the floor.

They both did not realize the crowd watching. The girls in the ballroom wanted to see Kyouya dance the entire night, but with each dance he did, there were no emotions being shown. So when this mysterious girl came along, and when they all saw him entranced by her movements (not to mention her beauty and confidence), they were mesmerized the same. The hosts, too took the time to not dance with their partners (or eat chocolate, as Huni had been doing the entire night) and watch as their mysterious host dance with his mysterious partner.

So the music played. They continued to spin, twirl, dip, move, dance, whatever else they could think of—they did it. Haruhi felt her hands hold onto his a little more, not wanting to ever let go of his hands, and he was feeling something with her. Her red dress—he did not care if it was cheap, it was beautiful. It matched the theme perfectly, and her hair—god, her hair. It had fallen on her shoulders because of how much they spun around, and it fell perfectly on her shoulders and spun with such grace! But he could not figure the person out—the mask hid her eyes too much. But she was the same height as Haruhi, the same body figure…but Haruhi was at home. It was not her.

It was not the same.

0o0

He broke away right when the music ended. He ripped his hands away from hers and stood there as the last chord hung in the air. "Who are you?" he said to her as the applause entered their ears. Haruhi didn't know whether it was the right time to say it, but she had to say it at some point. She was trying to catch her breath and, finally, she found the courage to reply:

"The one that loves you," and he read her perfectly. Too bad his reply was not the one that was meant to be said.

"You cannot love me," He watched as she took a step toward him; he took a step back.

"Why is that, Kyouya?" It was the first time she hadn't used a proper name at the end. It felt…grand. But he did not notice the change in her; he still didn't know who she was.

"Because I love another," he turned his back to her and heard another piece start. The crowd began to dance again; they were alone again. Haruhi took a few steps and looked at his face; he caught her eyes. "It was only a dance," he whispered to her. He was being as polite as possible. She, however, thought he knew who she was. But she was wrong, and she assumed the worst.

"So you do not love me," she whispered to him. Her eyes started to blink; she felt the tears coming. He looked at her; why did his heart hurt when she started to cry?

"Why do you cry?" he asked. She bowed her head and closed her eyes. She did not want to feel this way.

"Because I have loved you a long time," she whispered, "since I finally got to know you, Kyouya." He was intrigued again—who was she? And how long was "a long time"? She held her head high again and smiled; she was still crying. Something was wrong, he did something wrong. What was it? It was killing him. "Thank you for the dance anyway. I came here to see you, and I saw you. The dance was extra," she came here. _She came here. _Kyouya felt the light bulb flickering in his head. No, it couldn't possibly…

"Wait, are you…?" Before he could ask her, she reached for her mask and pulled it off her head. The rose pedals fell across her face; Kyouya took a step back in both shock and horror. Her mascara, it was starting to run; her eyeshadow made her eyes pained; the mask's lines were embedded in her face; he saw nothing but pain. And he caused this. He wanted _none _of that for her, _none_. Before he could get his voice back, before he could find the courage to talk to her, he felt her mask rest in his hands. He couldn't take his eyes away from her face. _Haruhi. _

"I might as well tell you before you wonder too much. I know how much it bothers you, mysteries that is. I can't deny my feelings, Kyouya-senpai, I love you. Here I thought we were dancing because you loved me back. I was wrong," her lips were trembling. No, that wasn't why. That… "I should leave," she turned her head, her hair spinning with her. He saw her take one step; he reached out for her. But she was too face, and she slipped right out of his fingertips. She mixed with the crowd, and soon enough she was gone.

So was he.

0o0

The chill in the air pulled through each of the windows. The sprinkle of snow graced the grass's tips and the streetlights made the snow more beautiful. But when she was outside, she first looked up at the stars. They were glorious, the glittering spotlights sparkling in the dark sky. She saw the black limo down below, but she found no strength to leave yet; she kept seeing him and her, dancing to the music of love. So she fell to the ground.

Her heart was racing, and it was in so much pain. _So this is heartbreak. I must've made other guys feel this way when I rejected them. This sucks, _she bluntly thought as she pulled her knees to her chin. _I feel stupid. A commoner like me, with a guy like that? Rich bastard, _she closed her eyes and felt the chill in the air rest against her skin. She should've bought a shawl. She would have to tell her father—her father! How _would_ she tell him what happened? She brought her knees closer to her body; she didn't want to go.

He reached the door. He was determined to find her, as she couldn't have gotten far. There were many girls that stopped him on the way toward her, and he _had _to deny their requests to a dance. That dance, the one with _her_, he wanted that again. When he opened the doors to the ballroom, there she was, sitting on the steps. "Haruhi!" She didn't dare turn around; she knew this voice. She didn't want him to see how ashamed she was, how pitiful she was for showing up to the ball in the first place. And when he knew she wasn't going to move, he moved toward her.

She heard his footsteps; she knew he was walking. But she couldn't move. She was frozen. She couldn't do a thing. She couldn't even find her voice. She could only feel her heart and feel the _pain_ as well. "Haruhi," he whispered to her. God, if her heart wasn't a mess, it would be melting right now. The way he said her name, the way he sounded—it was so perfect. But his cold demeanor, she knew him. So when she felt his jacket grace her shoulders, the cold air seemed to go away.

She swallowed everything she felt in her and felt his presence rest next to her. He didn't know how to start his speech—he didn't even have a speech. He didn't know what to do! _If only Fuyumi was here to help, _he thought to himself. She slightly turned her head toward him and opened her eyes. He was pulling off his mask and his glasses, throwing them in the grass next to them. He looked _gorgeous_ without his glasses (he looked handsome with them on, too) and sitting there, with his suit on. Why was he there in the first place? His other arm came into view; he was holding a rose.

"Haruhi," he started. He didn't know where he was going with it all, but he was going to try. "What do you have that this rose does not have?" he looked over at her; how it hurt him equally to look at her as she to him. Her grip on her knees loosened and she pulled away from them as well. She didn't know where he was going, so she looked back down at her knees. He rested his hand on hers. "Look at me, Haruhi," and their eyes met again.

Under the moonlight, the stars shone for only the two lovers in the night. Her heart was racing again, and she felt her face on fire staring into his eyes (he, too, felt his face starting to flame at the way she was looking at him). "What could you have?" She opened her mouth.

"A broken heart?" he commented back:

"It has no heart," she replied:

"Then how does it live?" he continued:

"It doesn't have mine," she blinked. The rose was in front of face, held by the one she loved, held by the one that loved her.

She straightened her posture, letting her dress fall against the steps with Kyouya sitting next to her. Haruhi didn't leave his stare. "Then why did you tell me that you did not love me?" He held onto her hand; she held back.

"I didn't know it was you. I am terrible with mysteries," she felt a small smile grace her face. She looked down at the rose and took it into her other hand (she made sure to not touch one of the thorns).

"So you love me," she whispered.

"I have for a long time," he replied.

"So have I," he smiled.

"You are my precious merit, Haruhi," Realization hit her. She started to panic; he saw it coming, and smiled.

"What about being seen by a commoner in public? What about your father? What about _my_ father? What about…" a kiss silenced her voice and she closed her eyes with him. She felt her tears—happy tears—find themselves on the corner of her eyes and he felt his heart racing a mile a minute. Yes, this is what he yearned for, for who knows how long. He pulled away from her, she opened her eyes with him, and she saw his smile matching hers.

"What about it?" He rested his forehead on hers and she closed her eyes again. Everything was right, everything ended up with the ending it deserved. What started as heartbreak turned into a loved heart, a taken heart, and two hearts melding into one. They didn't need another dance, they didn't need an extravagant speech to end their night. But they got the voice of their friends in the background—they only cared for each other at the moment; that was all that mattered. The hearts were flying around their bodies, and they didn't want to ruin anything. But the voice called out to them, and they continued to smile.

"And with the night over, let love never die!"

**THE. LONGEST. EVER.**

**Also, the ending sucks. And it was supposed to be a different ending and be sad and stuff. BUT VALENTINE'S IS SUPPOSED TO BE HAPPY.  
**

**Not really, but MY GOD. I haven't worked on a story like that in a while (which, I should LOL). I was meaning to upload this yesterday, but I didn't finish. So this is a late V-Day oneshot with Kyouya and Haruhi. I'm thinking of starting another story with them. HMM. I should finish the stories I have to finish FIRST, then go with the flow and go to them. Maybe.**

**Maybe not.**

**Review it and love it!**

**Until next time!**

**TLS  
**


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